


Honey, I'm Just Trying to Find My Way to You

by boomerbird10



Category: NCIS
Genre: 10x4, Episode: Lost at Sea, F/M, Fix-it fic, bc Tony totally should have asked Ziva out during that episode, don't @ me CBS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:00:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26037544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boomerbird10/pseuds/boomerbird10
Summary: "Cute, but you had your chance."When Tony realizes that he may have had an opportunity to date Ziva at some point during all the years they've known one other, he sets out to see if his chance is really gone after all.(set at the end of 10x4, "Lost at Sea")
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Comments: 9
Kudos: 72





	Honey, I'm Just Trying to Find My Way to You

**Author's Note:**

> For @pro-bee on Tumblr, inspired by one of her posts.

"Opened up my guitar case and all the songs were blue / I haunted all the alleys / Lord, I drifted down the valleys / Honey, I'm just trying to find my way to you."

— Gregory Alan Isakov, "Suitcase Full of Sparks"

* * *

"Ziva," Borin cuts in, interrupting Tony's awkward attempt to save face after Ziva outed the reality of he and McGee's 'hot Friday night dates'. "Drink?"

"Yes," Ziva agrees quickly, a smug smile rising to her lips as her teammates blink at her. "Thank you." She turns pointedly back to Tony and McGee. "Finally, someone has the _decency_ to ask me to join them!"

She brushes past them both as Borin gives Gibbs a brief wave of goodbye, and she and her friend walk toward the elevator. Behind them, McGee and Tony are just starting to sort through that interaction.

" _That's_ what this was about?" Tony realizes.

"She set us up because we didn't ask her out in the first place. How did we miss that?" McGee echoes.

Ziva rolls her eyes, and she and Borin snort and exchange looks when they hear Gibbs' response. "Better question is how are you gonna fix it?"

"Something tells me we're about to have company after all," Borin speculates wryly, and she's almost immediately proven right.

"Hold that door!" comes Tony's voice, right before the rest of him appears and blocks the progress of the closing car doors. "Oh, I'm in, I'm in." McGee follows right after.

Ziva raises her eyebrows at Borin. "They seem to think they are still invited to join us," she observes.

"We're not?" Tony asks, but he is soundly ignored.

"I think you're right," Borin agrees with Ziva as if no one has spoken. "What should we do? Do we let them come along?"

Ziva shrugs. "They were awfully rude, _and_ they lied."

"That's true."

"Would it help if we say we're sorry?" McGee cuts in sheepishly.

"It certainly would not hurt," Ziva replies, finally acknowledging at least one of the men in the elevator.

"We _are_ sorry. Really sorry," Tony says immediately, elbowing McGee. "Right, Elf Lord?"

McGee gives Tony a dirty look and massages his side. "Of course we are."

"They seem sincere enough to me… but it's up to you, Ziva," Borin offers, smirking.

"Hm… alright. They can come—but they are both on thin mice."

"Thin _ice_ ," McGee corrects. "Thanks, Ziva."

Ziva shakes her head in feigned exasperation and smiles. "McGee, just consider asking me out the next time you make 'Friday night date' plans again, yes?"

For some reason, that makes Tony look sharply at Ziva, giving her a look that she doesn't really understand. She meets his eye for a moment, raising her eyebrows in wordless query, but then McGee answers what she just said, interrupting the silent communication.

"You've got it," he promises.

Then the elevator reaches the ground floor, and the agents start to file out. No one notices that Tony hangs back for several long seconds, staying in place until the doors nearly close without him again. Only then does he rush after the other three, the sentiment of Gibbs' words repeating itself loudly in his mind.

_What are you gonna do to fix it?_

If he had a chance, maybe he still does. Maybe it's time to have a little courage.

* * *

"Hey, Ziva."

Ziva turns to glance at Tony, her eyebrows raised. He grabs her arm for a second, holding her back while Borin and McGee walk on. "What did you mean when you said I had my chance?" he demands.

Ziva throws her head back and laughs, well used to matching Tony's teasing. "I am sure your imagination is up to answering that question for you."

"Come on, Ziva, be serious."

"Oh, I am. You have known me for how long now?"

"Um, I think it's been sev—"

"If you wanted a date," she interrupts, "you have had a long time to ask." With that, she breaks free from his grasp and starts to follow the others.

"Go on a date with me, then," Tony suggests loudly to Ziva's retreating back, surprising her and stopping her in her tracks. "It can't be too late. I think my chance is _now_."

Ziva turns around again to stare him down, analyzing his expression. "You cannot be serious."

"As a heart attack." Tony shrugs, and it seems very much so like he's joking this off as usual… but there's a strange vulnerability in his expression, like he fears rejection. He shouldn't, if he's just messing around.

Then again, Ziva had actually been teasing, too, but… "That is not a very romantic way to ask a woman out, Tony," she points out.

It becomes immediately clear that saying _that_ was a mistake... because Tony's whole persona abruptly shifts, and he grins in a slightly unsettling way that makes Ziva nervous. "What do you want, then? Flowers? Chocolates? A song? Five people following me around with sombreros and trumpets and guitars?"

"I do not think a macaroni band would help your case."

"I think you mean a mariachi band, but… okay, noted. So, no to the band, and yes to everything else."

Ziva rolls her eyes. "Sure. That is _exactly_ what I want," she agrees, sarcasm heavy in her tone... anything to stop this conversation. Then, deciding that discretion is the better part of valor, she marches forward without saying anything more.

"What was that about?" Borin asks her when she reaches where the others are walking.

"I will tell you later, when Stupid and Stupider are not around," Ziva answers, jerking her head at McGee and then at Tony, who has started jogging to catch up.

"Dumb and Dumber!" Tony corrects breathlessly as he falls in line with his friends.

"Yes, that, too."

"I should stop doing things that get me lumped in with Tony," McGee mutters to himself.

* * *

Ziva is on the phone at her desk the following Monday morning when a bouquet of flowers suddenly appears in between her face and her computer screen. She jerks back, glaring into the beaming face of Tony DiNozzo. "Want to go on a date with me?" he asks by way of greeting, clearly aiming to come across as charming.

Ziva covers the mouthpiece of her phone so that the Marine officer on the other end of the line hopefully does not hear what's going on; he has her on hold right now, but she's expecting him to return at any moment. "No," she snaps at Tony, shooing him back in the general direction of his workstation. "Go away. I am busy."

"Suit yourself," Tony replies, placing the flowers gently by her elbow and putting on a show of nonchalance that Ziva does not trust as he drifts away like she directed him to.

Unfortunately, though, Lieutenant Colonel Katler rejoins the call then, and Ziva has to ignore Tony for the moment. Otherwise, she might interrogate him or scold him—she has not yet decided between the two.

She really can't decipher whether this is an ongoing bit—or if Tony genuinely wants a date with her. They have constantly flirted without attempting anything further for so long now that it's impossible to tell.

* * *

At lunch time, Tony strikes again. Ziva's in the break room brewing a mug of tea when he walks in and hands her a box without a single word of explanation. "What is this?" she demands, frowning, though she has the strange feeling that she knows the answer.

"Open it and see."

She does; it's a box of fancy chocolates, the kind often given out on Valentine's Day. "Tony, what are you playing at?" she wants to know, squinting at him distrustfully.

"'Mama always said life was like a box of chocolates,'" Tony quotes in his best _Forrest Gump_ -inspired Alabama drawl. "'You never know what you're gonna get.'"

"I know what _you_ are 'gonna get'," Ziva says darkly, but there's a slight smile on her face that she can't quite suppress. "Thank you for the chocolates, but I have work to do now."

She strides out of the breakroom, abandoning her tea, and Tony follows. "Are you _sure_ you don't want to go on a date with me?" he double checks.

Ziva laughs—and much to her annoyance, the sound seems to fall short of the frustrated derision that she meant to express to Tony. " _Yes_. I am quite sure."

"That's just 'cause you haven't heard my song yet."

"You do not have a song," she replies, calling his bluff.

"Are you sure about that?" he asks, calling hers.

* * *

Luckily, the office is nearly empty when Tony drops the bomb that Ziva hopes will be his last.

They've been finishing up paperwork for most of the evening as the bullpen clears out, and Ziva has just put the last few finishing touches on her report. Tony sees her place a printed copy on Gibbs' desk, and he smirks so smugly that Ziva can sense it—in fact, she can almost _hear_ it in a way, and she frowns deeply.

Without so much as glancing at Tony, she knows _exactly_ what his face looks like right now... which is alarming in and of itself.

She finally turns, highly suspicious, to see Tony pulling a rolled-up something out of his backpack. "What is that?" she asks skeptically, feeling a strong and uncomfortable sense of deja vu.

"This, Ziva David… is a _song_ ," Tony explains with great drama and a wickedly gleeful grin.

"No!" Ziva replies sharply, appalled. "You would not _dare_." Would he?

"Oh, my dear, sweet Ziva… I _would_."

With that, he grabs one of the ends of whatever he's holding and theatrically flourishes his arm, unrolling the thing across the floor to reveal a child's playable piano mat. "Much like Tom Hanks in _Big_ , I'm going to mesmerize you with the gift of music. Flew this baby in all the way from Paris just for tonight."

If Ziva rolls her eyes any harder, she's going to go blind. "Tony. _No_." She points a stern finger in his direction as if he's a misbehaving puppy, but he ignores her and arranges his piano gently along the aisle until it's situated to his liking.

"Prepare to be swept right off your feet, Ms. David."

Ziva was already finished with her work and ready to go home when this started, and really, she should just turn around and leave now—before Tony takes the chance to make a scene. Unfortunately, morbid curiosity firmly tethers her feet to the floor, and she watches with conflicting levels of horror and reluctant amusement as Tony jumps onto the keyboard. Notes start streaming out from speakers around his feet, and it doesn't take more than a few beats to figure out what he has chosen to play... he's beginning a tune that _might_ be a romantic (if outdated) song under other circumstances: Bette Midler's "The Rose".

Then, things get worse. Rather than simply playing the piano music by itself, he also starts to _sing_.

"Some say looooove, it is a riveeeeeer, that drooooooowns the tender reeeed!"

"Tony! Stop that, you _idiot_!" Ziva hisses, but she's too shocked to physically _make_ him stop. Unfortunately, her protest only makes him sing louder.

"Some say loooooove, it is a razooooor, that leeeeeaves your soul to bleeeed!"

"Anthony DiNozzo," Ziva threatens, well aware that they're garnering looks and chuckles from stragglers or night shift workers in other sections of the bullpen, "if you do not stop, I will be forced to take action."

"Some say loooooove, it is a hungeeeeer, an eeeeendless, aching neee—"

Coming to her senses, Ziva cuts Tony off by marching around her desk and clapping a hand across his open mouth. His sound is abruptly muffled, and he mercifully stops his song. Satisfied, Ziva grabs him by his sleeve to tug him away from the piano. "Close your mouth and come with me. _Now_." Her tone brooks no argument, and Tony offers none as he stumbles along behind her.

She pulls him to the elevator and directs him in before getting in herself. " _What_ is your end goal here?" she challenges once she has borrowed Gibbs' signature move of stopping the car.

"Haven't I made that clear? I want you to—"

"Do not say 'go on a date' if you value your life."

Tony laughs but doesn't say it. "I want you to do that thing I can't mention out loud."

"And what if I agree to it?"

That sparks Tony's interest, and he grins more widely, smelling a possible victory in her hypothetical inquiry. "What if you do?"

"Will you stop with…" Ziva gestures broadly, her eyes narrowed. "...all of this?"

"Of course."

There's a pause, and then… "Fine."

"Wait, really?"

"Against my better judgment, yes."

"You mean it? I can take you out on an honest-to-God date?"

"Are you trying to talk yourself out of this, Tony?"

"No, just double checking. To clarify one more time, you're willing to go on a date?"

"One date. _One_ date," she emphasizes.

"With me?"

"Yes, Casanova, with you." This is accompanied by a massive eye roll. What Tony can't see is the way Ziva smiles when she turns back to face the elevator door.

Tony isn't done speaking, though. "Like, sometime soon, right? This isn't going to be one of those things where it's conditional, like if we're both still single by the time we're seventy?"

Ziva turns back around, and her stern pointer finger finds itself an inch from his nose again. "If you ask one more question, I will not only change my 'yes' to a 'no', but I will also shoot you. I suggest that you shut up, immediately if not sooner."

For once in his life, Tony wisely decides to stop talking.

* * *

Saturday night of the same week is decided on as their official date night.

Ziva makes Tony promise under pain of death—or at the very least, pain of a canceled date—to keep this to himself. If anyone asks about his little performance in the bullpen, he's to tell them that she hauled him away to the elevator to berate him and turn him down. She's prepared to defend that lie to anyone and everyone until she's blue in the face, but to her surprise, she never ends up needing to...

Because Tony _does_ keep silent. So far as Ziva can tell, he doesn't brag about their upcoming plans to anyone.

Saturday approaches quickly, though, and she finds that her feelings are starting to get a little… well, _confused_.

There might be something between them— _might_. The lack of certainty is the part that's making her feel wrong-footed.

It's not that she's never thought about Tony in a romantic way, because she'd be lying to herself if she said she hadn't. It has definitely occurred to her before… It's almost inevitable, really, with the amount of time they spend together, and with the way they have flirted since day one. He's the person she sees the most, both in the office and out—for better or for worse. He's her best friend, no matter how much he annoys her.

And somehow it never seems to matter that he _does_ annoy her, perhaps more than anyone else she's ever met. Strangely, she likes him very much despite that—or maybe even because of it.

There's Gibbs to consider, though, and his rule twelve. Even if their boss gave his blessing, Ziva doesn't want things to become awkward or uncomfortable—which they could, if the date went poorly. Even worse would be if the date went well but they crashed and burned later on. She and Tony both know damn well how explosive things can get when they're fighting.

All of that, however, is almost inconsequential compared to the thing that bothers her the most: even after all of Tony's over-the-top tactics to persuade her to spend an evening with him, she still doesn't know how he actually _feels_. She would be hesitating far less if she _did_ know for sure, and in that case, she probably would have said yes the first time Tony asked.

Nothing is ever simple between the two of them, though.

He never takes anything seriously, which is both a constant source of frustration _and_ part of his charm. Day-to-day, that usually doesn't bother her _too_ much, because despite what logic dictates, it creates a dynamic that works well. If she puts her heart on the line, however… well, that might be a different story. If Tony is just trying to get her to go on a date to prove a point, or to win a game, or even to get back at her for making him ask Borin out…

Then Ziva is going to end up getting hurt.

...because against all sense and reason, she _wants_ this date to be real. That's not prudent, and it's not rational, but it's how she feels.

The best course of action she can think to follow for now is to simply play it by nose, waiting to see how he acts on the evening in question and using her observations to analyze his intentions. In the meantime, she'll just have to knock him off _his_ feet. It's only right that they should both feel unbalanced.

Come Saturday evening, Ziva dresses in a wine-red off-the-shoulder dress, long sleeved and falling to her knees. It's simple but tight, showing off her figure, and Ziva has been friends with Tony for far too long to avoid knowing what he likes... which also leads her to wear her hair down, straightened and sleek and resting on her bare shoulders.

She's fairly certain that he'll be easy to please, at least, and that's a good thing… after all, it's nearly six, and there's no time to rethink the way she has chosen to dress.

Tony has insisted on picking her up tonight—something to which she reluctantly agreed and now fully regrets. By 5:45, she is completely finished getting ready, which leaves her with too much time to think... and slight tendrils of anxiety are starting to make their way through her thoughts by the time she hears a knock on her door.

 _This was a bad idea_ , she thinks as she goes to answer it. It's far too late to go back now, though.

"I hope you're ready for the night of your life, Ms. D—" Tony stops talking immediately as the door swings open and he sees Ziva.

"Cow got your tongue?" she asks dryly, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

Tony seems floored enough by what she's wearing tonight that he doesn't bother to correct her, though a slight twitch of his face tells her that she has misspoken in one way or another. "Ziva," he murmurs. "You look… wow."

"Tony DiNozzo, speechless? I never thought I would see the day."

"I'm not speechless, I'm just…" Okay, _speechless_.

"Whatever you say. You look nice, too." Ziva's smiling, though, familiar fondness for his general idiocy soothing her nerves. "Are you ready to go?"

Tony shakes himself a little. "Thanks. And um, yeah, I am. But first…" He pulls out a bouquet of roses from behind his back. "These are for you."

"Tony, I barely found a vase for the _first_ bouquet!" Ziva scolds, but she can't stop the bright smile that rises to her features in the wake of the surprise. "Come in while I deal with them, please." She steps back to let him enter; somehow, this feels different than the last hundred times he visited her flat.

There's weight to his presence now, weight that wasn't there before.

Tony follows her to the kitchen, watching as she searches for a second vase—she doesn't have one, so she improvises with a jar. "Don't keep flowers around often?" he observes.

Ziva shrugs. "I rarely receive them, and they are not something I would think to buy for myself. In Israel, the house I grew up in had a garden—that is what I prefer, living plants that grow and change. I like things that can be... _nurtured_ , yes?"

Tony raises his eyebrows and nods. "Duly noted."

Ziva realizes too late that what she just said might have come across as ungrateful, and she smiles apologetically. "I _do_ appreciate these, however, _and_ the others... they are lovely. You have very nice taste in flowers, Tony."

He smiles back. "Hah, I try! Did you notice that the roses match your dress? That's a plus I wasn't expecting."

"They do, do they not?" Ziva agrees warmly, glancing down to compare them.

Tony waits until she looks back up to say anything else. "Beautiful," he comments simply. He gestures to the flowers, but he doesn't break his eye contact with Ziva—it's very clear that he's not talking about what's in her hands.

The single word sends a shiver down Ziva's spine.

* * *

Tony has been secretive all week about the contents of the date he's planning, leaving Ziva to wonder. Up to the point when he starts to drive away from her building, though, she has yet to ask—maybe she's enjoying the anticipation of not knowing what's going to happen. Now the evening in question has finally arrived, however, and the time for half-anxious anticipation is over.

"Where are you taking me?"

"That's need-to-know information, Ziva, and I'm afraid you _don't_ need to know."

"This may legally constitute kidnapping, then."

"Are you always this dramatic on dates?" Tony replies wryly.

"Are _you_ always this secretive on dates?"

They grin at each other until the light they're waiting for changes and Tony has to return his attention to the road; they both realize that they're at something of an impasse. Tony doesn't want to answer the question, and Ziva doesn't want to admit defeat on sniffing out whatever he's hiding.

"What if I guess?" she wonders.

"What if you do?" Tony unhelpfully responds.

"If I guess correctly, will you tell me that I am right?"

"Hm… sure. But I don't think you'll get it. You're going to overthink it."

Ah, a challenge! "We will see... _I_ believe I can figure out your plans. You are not as clever as you think you are." The urge to bicker and goad is nearly irresistible; it's a vital part of their relationship by now. "Are we going to a movie?"

"Of course not, we watch movies all the time! This has to be special. Think outside the box."

"Hm. Are we going to a play? A concert?"

"No, and no."

"Any other kind of show?"

"Nope."

Ziva glances out the window toward the street signs they're passing as they travel further away from her neighborhood, and seeing the direction that they're moving in sparks a thought. "We are not staying in Washington," she observes; it's not really a question. She knows that the interstate on-ramp is only a little further down this road.

"Nope."

She scrunches up her nose, concentrating hard on puzzling this out. "Are we going to Virginia?"

"No."

"Maryland?"

"Yes! But you're still going to have to guess _where_ in Maryland."

"A restaurant."

"No, but that reminds me… have you eaten?"

"Not yet."

"Are you hungry?"

"I _could_ eat, but the need is not urgent."

"Perfect."

"So there will be food, wherever we are going?"

Tony rolls his eyes, his lips pressed together so as not to laugh at her. "Come on, you think I'd let you starve?"

"I really could not say, Tony. I have never been on a date with you before—I do not know how you operate in this setting."

His pseudo-offended look is marred by a smile that he can't seem to keep hidden. "I'm wounded! Your opinion of me is so _low_ , Ms. David!"

"I have seven years' worth of reasons for that."

Tony finally _does_ laugh, and he nudges her with his elbow; when he puts his arm back down on the center console, it's lined up comfortably against her own. "Maybe tonight will change your mind, then."

Ziva gives him a deeply doubtful look—of course, she's teasing just as much as he is. "Maybe, maybe not."

"Oh, ye of little faith!"

Ziva laughs; it shouldn't surprise her, but she's really enjoying herself already. This is the kind of setting that Tony thrives in… that is, he's at the center of someone else's attention in a situation where he doesn't have to be at all serious if he doesn't want to be, and he's able to flirt at will. He's in his element…

And not for the first time, Ziva thinks that for some reason, the most frustrating things about Tony bother her far less when they're away from work.

That's especially true here and now as they half-shyly navigate this new dynamic between them. Frankly, his playfulness, his goofiness, the way he can't look away from her except to watch the road… well, it makes for an attractive combination tonight, there's no denying it.

Realizing that she's been staring at him for just a beat too long, Ziva shakes herself out of her thoughts and goes back to systematically questioning him to find out where they're going.

"Okay, so there _is_ food, but not at a restaurant, and we are not going to see a show… will the place you are taking us have entertainment of any kind?"

"I mean, I _hope_ you'll be entertained by what I'm planning. Wouldn't want to bore you."

"You know that is not what I meant." Childishly, Ziva sticks her tongue out at him.

Tony grins, unrepentant. "Ah, well, the question was vague. Rephrase it and try again."

"You are insufferable!" Ziva is on the verge of laughter yet again, though, even as she looks to the heavens and incredulously shakes her head.

"I think that's what makes me so irresistible."

"Hah… your opinion of yourself is so _high_ , Mr. DiNozzo," Ziva mocks. "You should know that you are _very_ resistible."

"See, you _say_ that, but I don't think you really mean it."

"Why not?"

"Well, you're here with me now, aren't you?"

Huh. When it's phrased that way, Ziva can't really argue, so she just snorts and goes back to the previous topic, refusing to be swayed. "This evening, do our plans involve the two of us watching other people at all?"

"That's surprisingly kinky of you, Ziva."

"That is _not_ what I meant _!_ " she huffs again, her cheeks becoming warm with a flush of slight embarrassment as she realizes what's being implied... much to the delight of Tony, who seems to be enjoying a laugh at her expense.

Ziva reaches over the console to smack him, but he sees it coming from the corner of his eye and catches her hand before it can connect with his chest. "No," he answers, his tone still bright with amusement. He doesn't let go of her hand. "No people-watching. No sporting events... or painting classes, or crime scenes, or whatever else you might have been asking about."

Getting over her mild indignation at Tony's intentional misunderstanding (and realizing that she quite enjoys the feeling of having his fingers intertwined with her own), Ziva finally joins in with his laughter. "That rules out… many of the things I had considered, I will admit."

"Does that mean you're out of guesses?"

"No."

"Then hit me with your best shot."

"Give me a moment! I am trying to think of a way to pose my next question so that you cannot twist my words around."

Tony barks out another laugh and squeezes her hand; he really does seem to be in high spirits tonight, and it's wonderful to see. "I'll be on my best behavior," he promises. "Ask whatever you want, no funny business."

"That does not sound very Tony-ish. I do not know if I trust it."

"Hey, I can be serious every once in a while!"

"Can you?"

" _Yes_ , thank you very much. In fact, when I put my mind to it, I can even be downright romantic." With that, he pulls Ziva's hand to his lips and gently kisses her knuckles.

It's possible that Tony is only trying to prove a point, but it really feels like he means the little kiss as the affectionate gesture it usually would be; the kiss feels... _promising_ , maybe. It seems that despite her initial wariness, Ziva is starting to let herself consider that tonight might lead to something good.

Often, that wariness has been something of a hangup for her; her dating history is rocky, its timeline littered with men that used her and lied to her, and she's very tired of feeling like a means to an end. Sometimes, that makes her hesitant to trust the people that show an interest in her.

Tonight seems different.

Ziva's deeply-ingrained need for caution is fading, and Tony's hand being linked firmly with her own feels so natural... she can't really define _why_ , but that doesn't matter much. It's what she does with the feeling that will decide the way things end up.

Gibbs would call the sensation a gut feeling, she thinks. For him, paying attention to those instincts almost always seems to work out satisfactorily, and, well… maybe it's time for Ziva to follow her boss' lead and chase her _own_ gut feeling.

She starts by trusting Tony to take her somewhere nice, and she stops attempting to extract any answers from him for the time being. For once in her life, she backs down from a challenge.

* * *

When they finally reach their destination, Ziva is very pleasantly surprised by where they are... the drive, which took them just under an hour, concluded with Tony pulling into a parking lot for Thomas Point Park. Ziva can see him out of the corner of her eye, watching for her reaction as he turns off the engine, and she looks over to smile at him. "You took me to the ocean," she observes quietly, contentment warming in her tone.

"This is more of a bay, but… yeah, I thought you might like the water. What do you think?"

"I am surprised, to be honest."

"Oh?"

"I would have thought that fancy restaurants and too-expensive bottles of wine are more your style."

Tony breathes out a laugh. "I guess I _have_ planned a lot of dates like that, so you're not really wrong. That kind of night just doesn't seem very… _you_ , though. I thought that rather than doing something like that when you wouldn't be impressed by it anyway, we could just… sit in the park and have a picnic while the sun sets. Is that too cheesy?"

"No, it is perfect." And the unguarded affection in Ziva's expression clearly explains that she meant every word she just said.

Tony's answering smile is just as cheery, and he's about to start climbing out of the car when Ziva stops him.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"You really do not have to try to impress me," she tells him softly, showing him some of the vulnerability that she's been feeling since the moment she agreed to this date. "I already know who you are, and I am _glad_ to know you." Then she swiftly presses a kiss to his cheek and gets out of the car herself, leaving him blinking after her in surprise.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, they're side-by-side on a sturdy blanket over a thick patch of grass by the water, and Tony is excitedly showing off everything he packed into their picnic basket. He sets out a few plates and then starts pulling out food—a loaf of bread, a few varieties of cheese, grapes, nuts, salami, and two different kinds of wine.

Ziva has to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from risking offending Tony by laughing—he has brought enough food to feed a good five or six people, not just two. She starts to understand that maybe she isn't the only one who has been nervous about tonight. Just like her, Tony overprepared in an attempt to make the date go well.

Given his usual level of confidence—cockiness even, most of the time—seeing him like this is both unexpected and very endearing. Ziva settles for watching him fondly and listening to him chatter rather than saying much herself as he finishes setting up. He brushes off her offer of help.

After they fill their plates and settle in to munch, though, she points her wine glass in his general direction and lets her new insights give her courage. "I have a question for you," she announces.

"Maybe I have an answer, but no guarantees. What do you want to ask?"

"What is it that made you decide you wanted to do this tonight?"

"You mean come here specifically, or ask you on a date in general?"

"The latter."

Tony nods and then gives her a slightly calculating look, deciding how to answer. "Serious question, right? And you want a serious answer?"

Ziva nods, too, leaning in; she's interested to hear his perspective on all of this.

"Alright… I guess it was mostly what you said the other day, right before we wrapped that helicopter case. 'You had your chance,' that's what you told me. Something about that just… stuck around my brain, I think. _Had_ , as in past tense, just didn't sit right, like there had been an opportunity right in front of me and I didn't see it until it was too late."

"So you only wanted to… what, prove that you could change my mind?" Ziva regrets asking, because the answer is… disheartening.

Tony watches her face harden slightly, shifting back into the neutral mask that she used to use so often to hide her emotions, and his eyes widen. "What? Ziva, no, you're getting it all wrong. It wasn't about _proving_ anything—and it still isn't. It was about coming to realize that I'd ever had a chance in the first place. Of _course_ I had to try after that!"

Ziva's brow furrows, and she studies his face. "What would have led you to believe that you did not?"

Tony shrugs helplessly, looking preemptively frustrated as if he doesn't think he'll be able to explain himself. "I don't know, so I'm not sure what to tell you. Timing, maybe, or… too much history between us. Or Gibbs, or your father, or the fact that we rarely seem to be single at the same time—you name it. There was always something in the way, keeping me from thinking _too_ deeply about the possibilities."

"But you did think about them some?"

He gives her a smile that's almost incredulous, surprised that she even has to ask. "Of course I did. How could I not?"

"You never said anything."

"Well, neither did you."

That makes Ziva give a little involuntary chuckle, and she has to concede to Tony's point. "That is… fair."

"But _you've_ thought about it, too, right? Like, even without me asking you?"

"I said yes to tonight, did I not?"

"You did, but…" Tony starts to look a little sheepish. "You said no the first couple of times."

"Only because I did not think you were genuinely asking."

"You didn't feel manipulated into changing your mind, did you?"

Rather than immediately responding, Ziva plucks a grape from the bunch between them and centers it in her palm while Tony watches in bemusement. Then she lifts her hand up to eye level and, quick as a lightning strike, she sends the grape flying toward Tony's face with a well-placed flick of her fingers. It strikes him in the forehead and he jerks away with an indignant cry of "hey!"

Ziva laughs at his expression, and after a second, he laughs, too. "Okay, nice shot, but what was _that_ for?"

Ziva abruptly stops laughing and narrows her eyes at him. "For believing that I am so weak-willed that you could manipulate me into doing _anything_ that I do not wish to do."

Tony tosses another grape back at her in retaliation, but she's better at dodging than he is, and it bounces harmlessly onto the grass behind her. "You need to work on your aim," Ziva informs him.

"And _you_ need to work on your pretending-to-be-pissed-off face."

At that, Ziva lets her expression break back into a relaxed grin. "I _do_ mean what I said, however... I would not be here if I did not _want_ to be here."

"That's good to know."

And then Tony takes her hand again.

* * *

"Is this where you would have taken Abigail Borin if she had agreed to go out with you?"

Tony snorts. "Team leader from _CGIS_? No, definitely not. I'm sure she gets her fair share of water in her day-to-day life already. If I brought her here, she'd probably start looking for boating regulation infractions or something and I wouldn't have a snowball's chance in hell of keeping her attention."

" _We_ work with the Navy, and just last week, we were back and forth between the office and the coast." Ziva reminds him. "Why do you see Borin as any different than us?"

Tony starts to answer, but then he pauses to make a face. "I changed my mind—maybe she's not... I mean, you have a point, but more importantly, I just remembered the horror of being Agent Afloat. _I'd_ had enough of the water by the time that was over, let me just tell you that right now."

Ziva laughs and takes a sip of her wine. "Oh, I am well aware. You did not exactly strive to hide your frustration, Tony. Actually, your annoyance with ship life inspired McGee and I to take a bet."

Tony's eyes narrow, sensing that she's about to make a joke at his expense but not sure what it might be. "A bet over what?" he asks suspiciously.

"Whether you would jump overboard yourself."

He half-shrugs and makes a that's-fair kind of expression. "May have considered it a time or two. Which side were you on?"

"I knew you would not do it, no matter how much you hated the ship."

"How'd you know?"

"I assumed that _you_ ," Ziva starts, using her foot to nudge Tony in an intentionally ticklish spot so that he briefly squirms away, "were not done annoying us yet."

"How am _I_ the annoying one? You're the one who can't keep her feet to herself!"

"It is not my fault that you are ticklish."

"Yeah, but it's your fault that you're exploiting it." Tony lobs a cashew at Ziva.

It's not another ten seconds before they're having another minor food fight like the mature adults that they are.

* * *

By the time the sun is starting to go down, hanging low in the sky over the bay, the bottle of wine they opened has been nearly emptied. Tony was only responsible for one glass of it, needing to be sober enough to drive them back to Washington at the end of the evening... but between a pleasant placebo effect and the presence of a relaxed and beautiful Ziva at his side, he's feeling nearly as buzzed as she is.

They take their shoes off and temporarily abandon everything at the picnic spot to walk down to the water when they finish eating and drinking. There, they sit comfortably close to one another on a jetty rock, shoulders and hips aligned side-by-side as they float their feet in the brackish water of Chesapeake Bay and watch the sun set.

Maybe it's Tony who draws closer or maybe it's Ziva, but no matter who initiates it, it's not long before they're leaning in and resting against one another. They've never paid much attention to personal space anyway, so this is just a natural extension.

Then something new happens: Ziva lifts her head from Tony's shoulder and meets his eye. She doesn't utter a word, but it doesn't matter; the way she glances down to his lips and then back again clearly spells out what she's asking permission to do.

The answer is a definite yes, and Tony meets her halfway when she leans in to kiss him.

This isn't their first kiss, but it might as well be—their first was undercover, as aggressive as it needed to be to fit the characters they were playing, and there was nothing subtle or hesitant about it.

This kiss is different; far softer, slower, and more tentative, _this_ kiss is not about playing a role.

It's about giving in to what they've both been afraid to admit to wanting for far too long now.

* * *

Much later, Tony returns Ziva to her flat in Georgetown, and after finding a place to parallel park, he climbs out with her.

"Are you hoping to be invited in?" Ziva teases, and Tony laughs.

"No. But what kind of irresponsible date would I be if I just dropped you off and drove away? Who knows what could happen? You could be attacked in the stairwell, and I don't want to have to take anyone to the hospital tonight."

"Two-thirds of a bottle of wine is not enough to stop me from fighting off an attacker," Ziva informs him haughtily as they enter the building and start to ascend the stairwell in question.

Tony snorts. "Are you kidding? I know that! I was talking about a trip to the hospital for whoever was stupid enough to attack you."

"So you are walking me to my door to prevent me from killing someone?"

"Hey, someone's got to."

"And it has absolutely nothing to do with wanting a nightcap of some kind?"

"Who do you take me for?"

"Oh, I am sorry—I thought I was on a date with serial womanizer Tony DiNozzo."

He laughs and echoes his own words from earlier. "Your opinion of me is so _low_ , Ms. David!"

Ziva brings back something he said at the beginning of the evening, too. "Maybe tonight has changed my mind."

That makes Tony grin as he follows her out of the staircase onto her floor. "Maybe?"

"The night is not yet over. I am reserving judgment."

"How am I doing so far, then?"

"All I can say is that I recommend not messing things up for yourself in the next few minutes."

"You know what? I'll take it."

They come to a standstill on the stoop of Ziva's front door. "Do you want to come in?" Ziva asks.

Tony looks briefly conflicted, but ultimately, he shakes his head. "No, not tonight."

Ziva raises her eyebrows, surprised by that answer; despite teasing him about the idea just a few moments ago, she has been thinking about it herself for at least the last half-hour. "Are you feeling alright?" she asks suspiciously.

Tony ducks away, laughing, when she tries to feel his forehead to check for signs of a fever. "I'm fine, Ziva, keep your hands to yourself!" He returns to her side, though, and rests a gentle hand on her cheek. "Don't get me wrong, I've wanted to 'come inside' for a very long time, and maybe I'll have a good chance to do that soon… but tonight is not the night for it."

Ziva steps closer, too, and one of her hands lands naturally on his waist. "Why not?"

"Because unless I'm mistaken, this is… I don't know. This is a good thing, whatever we have going here. I don't want just a one-night stand with you, Ziva. I want to see where this goes."

"That is… surprisingly mature of you, Tony."

Ziva meant it as a compliment, but Tony chuckles, and the hand he has on her cheek starts to gently caress her jaw. "I like to think I've grown up a little over the years. And if that means changing my pattern, slowing things down… then so be it."

"We have known one another for seven years now, Tony," Ziva points out, though it's more for the sake of bickering than from any actual argument against what he's saying. "If we go any slower, we will go backwards."

That makes Tony _really_ laugh, louder and more exuberantly than before. "Maybe you're right, but we've held out this long. What's another date or two?"

"So there _will_ be more dates?"

Tony kisses Ziva's nose briefly—the gesture is so unexpected and innocent that it makes her smile reflexively.

"I hope so," he answers honestly, "but you have to want them, too."

"I do."

"I meant it when I said I didn't want to rush this—take the rest of the weekend to think it over. I want you to be sure about this."

He seems so earnest, and it's so _different_ from the way Ziva has seen him behave with other women before that if she wasn't already convinced, she would be now. "I can do that," she agrees softly. "I had a nice time tonight, Tony."

"I did, too."

Tony's hand under Ziva's jaw shifts to tilt her chin up, and then he kisses her one more time. Ziva responds with enthusiasm, and neither realizes exactly how invested they're becoming until one of Ziva's neighbors walks past, clearing their throat loudly as they do.

Tony and Ziva break apart, laughing.

"I'll see you Monday, Ziva," Tony says once her neighbor has disappeared into his own apartment. He doesn't step closer again, maybe realizing that if they keep kissing like _that_ , he's going to have a hard time sticking to the decision he made about not progressing things any further tonight.

"Right… Monday, then. Good night, Tony."

Ziva unlocks her door, finding that she's just a little out of breath, just a little flushed—but before she goes inside, she turns back to look at Tony one more time.

"I know what I will want when the weekend is over, and I do not think I will change my mind about it… I have seven years' worth of reasons for that."

Then she goes inside, feeling bubbly and happy and warm and there's no way that all of that can be attributed to the wine alone. She doesn't know it, but Tony remains where he is for nearly a full minute after she's gone, staring at her closed front door and grinning like the idiot in love that he's starting to think he might be.

* * *

When Ziva gets to the office on Monday morning, she's surprised to find that she's not the first one in… Tony is already at his own desk, and he gives her a warm smile of greeting before resuming typing on his computer.

Ziva only realizes once she sets her things down, though, that there is something on her desk that was not there when she left on Friday…

Sitting in front of her keyboard, tied around the bottom with a ribbon arranged in a neat little bow, is a potted plant. It's something small and pretty with a white flower blooming at the top—a peace lily, if Ziva isn't mistaken. When she finishes admiring it, she looks up to see Tony watching her, and she gives him a wide smile.

"Do you like it?" he wants to know.

"I love it, Tony. Thank you."

"Sure thing." He's clearly pleased with how well his surprise has gone over, though, and when he goes back to whatever he had been working on, his face is still alight with happiness... and he keeps sneaking glances across the aisle.

Ziva can very clearly see what a good thing their date over the weekend was, because… it turns out that she was right.

There _is_ something here, something between them.

Something to nurture.


End file.
